


Muffin Compares to You

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (And other winter holidays), Baking, Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: Even after everything they've been through together, Keith has yet to meet his greatest challenge until now:Shiro during the holiday baking season.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Muffin Compares to You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Domestic Sheith Zine!

December first, Keith wakes up alone.

He finds the unfamiliar sensation incredibly unpleasant, even a cause for worry. In three years together, unless a life-threatening emergency demanded it, Shiro has  _ never _ willingly gotten up earlier than Keith.

With a groan, he turns to the clock on the bedside table. Maybe Keith has slept late? But no, it’s barely six-thirty in the morning.

No sound from the bathroom, either. His skin begins to prickle, and he reaches underneath his pillow for his knife—

And then an absolutely heavenly scent wafts through the air.

Keith leaves the knife, tugging the covers down and slipping out of bed. As he pads quietly to the kitchen, an off-key humming reaches his ears. He can feel the tension bleed from his muscles as he steps into the room.

Shiro stirs one of what has to be six or seven bowls, a cornucopia of baking ingredients spread across the counters: three kinds of flour, five kinds of sugar, eggs, milk, cream, butter, and other ingredients Keith isn’t sure he could identify if he tried.

Keith smiles softly at the sight of Shiro in an apron, heart swelling with fondness—

But then Shiro reaches into one of the bowls, plucking up a piece of chocolate dough and eyeing it hungrily.

“Hey, you know you can’t eat that.”

Shiro turns, a guilty expression on his face. “But it’s just...”

Keith crosses his arms. “It’s not ‘just.’ You’ll blow up like a balloon, and then you’ll mope and moan about how terrible you feel, and I’m okay with taking care of you but is it  _ really  _ worth it?”

With a longsuffering sigh, Shiro lets the dough drop back into the bowl.

“You’re right,” he says, forlorn. “You always are. Thanks.”

And then, barely looking at Keith, not even seeming to notice that Keith is naked, Shiro turns back to his mixing.

Keith stares for a few moments, mind trying to compute. Shiro, passing up an opportunity for lechery? Has his husband been abducted by aliens (again)?

“Baking with chocolate when you can’t have it is the worst.” With a morose shake of his head, he begins doling out the scoops of chocolate dough onto a cookie sheet.

Keith steps forward, peering at what have to be the contents of their pantry’s baking shelf. “What’s the occasion?”

Shiro glances up, looking almost incredulous.

“It’s December! Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year’s—both of them—I only have so much time.”

“Time for what?” Keith sidles closer, stealing some dough for himself. Out of respect for Shiro, he selects one without chocolate.

“To bake for everyone—oh, just a second.” Shiro rushes over to the ovens as the timer beeps, pulling out a tin of mini loaves. “Oh. Perfect.”

“Now I know why you wanted a place with two ovens,” Keith comments absently. “But—Shiro, most of those aren’t for weeks.”

“Yes, but I won’t have  _ time _ the week before Christmas. I have way too much to do.”

“How many people do you have to bake for?” Keith asks, a tiny thread of trepidation worming into his chest. Shiro has that look in his eye, the one he usually only reserves for battle.

“List is over there.” Shiro jerks his head, and Keith approaches it with some wariness.

The Holts, Iverson and his husband, Lance and Hunk’s families, the Kinkades, the Rizavis, even James, Krolia, Kolivan, every other member of the Blade, Allura and Coran and every  _ other _ Altean they know...

“Shiro,” Keith manages, voice almost a squeak. “This is, like, every single person we know!” Not only is the list thorough, but it contains favorite flavors, baked goods suggestions, dietary restrictions, and commentary Keith can’t see the relevance of but Shiro apparently had.

“Yeah.” Shiro doesn’t even bat an eyelash, turning the loaves out with one hand and continuing to scoop out the cookie balls with the other. Keith watches for a few moments, unsure if he should be experiencing concern or awe.

As one wins out over the other, Keith steps forward, cocking his head flirtatiously with a small smile on his face.

“You know, since you’ve finished a batch, that’s the perfect time to take a break.” He steps closer, leaning his shoulder into Shiro’s, fondness swelling within him at the contact.

Shiro turns, offering him a smile, tired but still as affectionate as Keith’s.

“I wish I could, baby,” Shiro murmurs, planting a sweet kiss on Keith’s brow. “But I have so much to do.”

Keith presses his lips together. He’s never really been too good at sultry and seductive, but desperate times and all that.

Keith steps forward, pressing his chest into Shiro’s back, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s waist. Shiro has to notice that Keith is naked at  _ some _ point, right?

“Is there anything I can do to help you out?”

Shiro turns to grin at Keith over his shoulder. “Actually, yeah! When that loaf pan cools, do you think you can rinse it out and then butter and flour it again for me?” Oblivious, he continues mixing... whatever.

With a sigh, Keith pulls away, shoulders slumping.

“Yeah, okay.”

He turns to go put on some pants.

—

By the second week of December, Keith wonders if he’s ever going to get his husband back.

The house smells amazing, of course, day in and day out—but that’s the problem. Keith struggles to remember a day that Shiro wasn’t baking himself silly, and the complete unconsciousness Shiro falls into when the evening rolls around doesn’t really sit well with him either. While he’s glad to see Shiro get sleep, he’s not sure that working himself into exhaustion is really the best way to go about it.

And, if he’s being completely honest, the fact that in two weeks, they’ve only gotten naked once frustrates him an unbelievable amount.

They hadn’t even  _ done _ anything. By the time Keith was ready, he’d found Shiro fallen asleep underneath him, face buried in the pillow.

Keith hates the holidays.

“Evening, baby,” Shiro murmurs as Keith flops down in one of the kitchen bar chairs, watching Shiro pull some sort of dough out of plastic wrap. “How was your day?”

Keith squints at him, wondering how someone so smart can be so dense.

“Fine. The Blade of Marmora has been doing some cool things in Paolara. They do miss Voltron’s help some, but they’re glad it’s not really needed anymore. And they’re glad we’re all taking some time off.”

“Mhm,” Shiro hums, now rolling out the dough. Keith idly admires the muscles in his arms. “I’m glad we get some.”

“Yeah.” Keith fixes Shiro with an intent look. “So we should be taking advantage of it.”

“Absolutely.” Shiro wipes a smudge of flour off his nose and across his cheeks. “It’s been so nice. I’ve gotten so much done!”

Keith squints. “I’m pretty sure the point is not to do anything.”

Shiro snorts, turning towards the beeping oven. “That’s ridiculous. How else am I going to finish all of my holiday baking?”

Keith opens his mouth, then closes it again. This seems so important to Shiro; he can’t bring himself to suggest that the baking might not be necessary. Instead, he snatches a chocolate chip cookie from a baking sheet and bites down into it aggressively.

But then he pulls away as something seems... off.

He leans in, sniffing delicately. Definitely off. Keith takes one more taste and grimaces.

“Shiro...”

When Shiro turns, Keith holds it out. “Don’t eat the chips.”

Shiro grimaces right back, but obeys, nibbling at the cookie.

And his expression darkens even more.

“What the... it’s...”

“ _ Salty. _ ” Keith refrains from going to get a glass of water for now, wanting to avoid rubbing it in.

Shiro shakes his head, bewildered, then turns back to the counter. He slides over to the nearest baking canister, dipping a hand in and taking a pinch. As he tastes, his expression shifts to one of horror.

“Salt,” he says faintly, turning to stare at the cookies Keith had sampled, the macarons sitting beautifully assembled next to them, the quick breads cooling over the sink.

He lifts a brownie, fresh out of the oven, to his teeth.

“Shiro!”

But Shiro doesn’t care that the nibble, small as it is, will probably leave him with hives. Nor does he even get to enjoy his small transgression.

“I switched them,” he says faintly. “The salt and the sugar... I’m gonna have to do everything again.”

“What—no! Shiro, c’mon, I’m sure there’s something...”

But Shiro’s despondent expression tells Keith what he already knows.

Keith sighs.

“I... I’ll start cleaning out the dishes for you.”

Shiro only nods, and Keith’s heart nearly breaks as he wonders what he can do.

—

As Keith fumbles for the doorknob, grocery bags in each arm, he immediately notices something wrong. His nostrils flare, and the acrid smell of smoke fills his nose.

Eyes widening, chest tightening, Keith drops the bags, barging into the house and towards the smoke.

The kitchen, of course. Keith yanks open the sink cupboard doors, snatching up the fire extinguisher and pointing it at the oven that’s billowing thick smoke.

Taking a deep breath, Keith reaches out and pulls it open.

The first puff catches him straight in the face, but he sprays with a vengeance, smothering the flames until there’s nothing left.

As the canister drops to the floor, empty, Keith tries to steady himself. His hands shake, his mouth dry as a desert, but he isn’t hurt. He’ll need to replace the extinguisher, check the batteries in the smoke detector, but he and Shiro are—

_ Shiro! _

Leaving the mess in the kitchen, he makes a beeline for the other rooms. No dining room, no bathroom—

On his second pass through the living room, Keith spots him.

For the briefest of awful moments, he assumes the worst: Shiro, sprawled on the couch, motionless with eyes closed.

But then Shiro’s chest rises and falls in a deep, peaceful breath.

As his heartbeat steadies, Keith distantly notes the sense of gratitude that Shiro has finally managed to get some sleep. But if Shiro wakes up and realizes what happened, it’ll be the last Shiro gets for—

Keith sets his jaw.

Not on his watch.

—

Shiro sleeps amazingly.

He doesn’t realize why he feels so good after he checks the clock, which shows four hours after he fell asleep, but then he looks outside and notices daylight.

_ Sixteen _ , then. Damn, that had—

Shiro sits bolt upright, cold with panic.

_ His cookies! _

He throws off the blanket—wait, when had that gotten there? But no time to think about that—and sprints for the kitchen.

Instead of a raging inferno of scorched baked goods, he finds Keith, apron around his waist, pulling a perfect fruitcake out of the oven.

Shiro has only one fruitcake on his list, for Professor Montgomery, and it’s the last item on his list. And yet, there it is in Keith’s hands.

“Oh.” Keith blinks at him, adorably sleepy. “Mornin’, Shiro. ‘Sit morning already?”

Shiro’s eyes widen, and he wraps his arm around Keith’s shoulders, leading him over to sit at the kitchen table.

“Please tell me you haven’t been baking since you got home last night.” But even as he pleads, Shiro knows the answer.

Keith’s jaw cracks in a yawn, and he sets the fruitcake on the potholder.

“You were... asleep. Finally. And if I didn’t finish, you would’ve kept working and not sleeping...”

Guilt tightens in Shiro’s chest. He supposes he... isn’t really one to criticize, not after the past couple of weeks.

“Well, that’s done now,” Shiro promises. Squeezing Keith’s shoulder and planting a kiss on his temple. “I... I didn’t realize how hard I was pushing myself. I’m sorry.”

Keith nods his approval with the determination only someone past the point of exhaustion can possess. He takes Shiro’s wrist, lifting it to drop Shiro’s hand on top of his head, looking up at Shiro expectantly.

With a fond smile, Shiro pets the hair obligingly.

“You know,” he murmurs, staring distantly out the window as Keith hums underneath him, “I didn’t know you could bake. Did you really learn, just for me?”

No response. Shiro glances down to see that Keith has nodded off in record time.

With a fond sigh, he scoops Keith up, depositing him in the spot Shiro had just woken from, covering him with the blanket.

Then, he heads back to the kitchen. After Keith had finished Shiro’s baking, the least Shiro can do is clean.

Plugging up the sink and beginning to run the water, Shiro kneels to pull the dish soap from the cupboard.

But something seems—different. Off. Wrong. His anxiety heightens, and he looks around, trying to place it...

The fire extinguisher.

How had it taken so long for him to realize? The fire extinguisher had been the first and only thing Keith had contributed to the kitchen, and he still checks it regularly, so where...

A suspicion niggles at Shiro, and he hurries over to the garbage can. Opening it, he spots the evidence: paper towels covered in foam and a tell-tale red metal buried under it all.

And, underneath it all, hints of very, very charred something.

Shiro sighs, guilt tightening in his stomach. He had kind of screwed the pooch on this one, hadn’t he?

Shaking his head, he takes out the trash, petting Kosmo on the way. He’ll be more careful next year. He’ll be better about taking care of himself  _ immediately. _

Although...

He  _ should _ try some of Keith’s baked goods. Just so Shiro can properly thank him and all.

He peeks through the samplings, lifting tinfoil until he finds what he seeks.

The double chocolate mocha brownies look absolutely divine. And as the cocoa goodness bursts on his tongue, rich and sweet and delicious, he decides that Keith’s baking skills are divine, too.

Just one. No, just two. Well, Keith isn’t here to stop him, so maybe three.

Once he’s sated, he looks down at the remainder, replacing the foil. He’ll be good, from now on, and not have any more.

Still, he can already feel the itching on his cheeks as the allergies begin to set in. Oh, he’s going to regret this in a while, but right now, it’s absolutely worth it.

Slinking back into the living room to avoid further temptation, he curls up on the armchair, watching a sleeping Keith. He hopes the allergic reaction will clear up before Keith wakes or notices. No need to give him  _ more _ to worry about.

Tomorrow, Shiro thinks firmly. He’ll start taking better care of himself tomorrow.


End file.
